


It's Always Darkest Before the Dawn

by pooh_collector



Category: White Collar
Genre: Case Fic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 17:43:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1753301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pooh_collector/pseuds/pooh_collector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal gets kidnapped.  The consequences are hard on both Neal and Peter.</p>
<p>This is not intended as a Season Five finale tag, though I guess you could read that way if you wanted to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Always Darkest Before the Dawn

It was so dark and he was so cold and so tired and he hurt so much. He knew he should get up, keep moving. He knew he wasn’t safe. He knew if he were to give in to his desire to lie down and rest, he would likely never wake up. But, he couldn’t even muster up enough strength to care. So he let himself fall sideways into the snow, let his eyes close against the darkness and slept.

***

Peter Burke entered his office resolutely to face the pile of insurance fraud case files that sat on his desk. He hung up his coat, sat with a sigh and grabbed the top most folder. Just as he flipped it open his phone rang and he picked it up hoping for something, anything that would take him away from the tedium of insurance fraud.

“Burke.”

“Agent Burke, Bret Samuelson with the U.S. Marshal’s office.”

Peter’s heart lurched.

“We got a call from NYPD. They picked up Neal Caffrey a few minutes ago. Seems like he’s in pretty bad shape. They’re taking him directly to Lenox Hill Hospital.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Right, I’ll meet you there.”

Samuelson disconnected the call and Peter sat for a moment with the phone still to his ear regretting that he had gotten exactly what he had hoped for.

It had been just over three weeks since Peter had gotten the call that Neal’s anklet had gone dark. One minute he appeared to be walking just a couple of blocks from June’s, the next he was simply gone. His cell phone was found in a dumpster another block over, but there was no sign of the anklet or anything else that Peter or his team recognized as Neal’s. 

Calls to Mozzie from both Peter and El went unanswered. And without any sign of foul play, Peter had to assume after a week with no word from him that Neal had run. 

The drive to the hospital was excruciating. The mid-morning traffic was atrocious and Peter couldn’t stop alternating between extreme anger at Neal and worry over his present condition and the reasons for it. When he finally arrived at the hospital, he had run out of patience and so he parked in the lot reserved for hospital staff and threw his FBI car tag onto the dashboard. 

By the time he made his way from the parking lot into the emergency room Peter was running. His need to see Neal, to know for sure that it was him and he was back was nearly overwhelming. 

As he approached the desk he saw a man dressed in a well tailored black suit that resembled something Neal would wear speaking with the nurse. They appeared to be having a rather animated discussion. 

“Excuse me,” Peter interrupted as he reached the desk. “Neal Caffrey?”

The man and the nurse turned to him as soon as he mentioned Neal’s name.

“Burke?” The man asked.

Peter nodded.

“Bret Samuelson. Ms. Davis and I were just discussing Mr. Caffrey.”

“What’s his condition?” Peter asked the nurse anxiously.

“Like I was telling this gentleman,” the nurse replied, tossing her head at Marshal Samuelson, “I have NO information on Mr. Caffrey’s condition at this time.”

Peter pulled his badge out and smacked it on the counter. “He’s my partner and I want to see him now.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible sir, Mr. Caffrey is being examined. Once his doctor has an update I’m sure he’ll be out to speak with you.”

“You don’t understand. He’s been missing for three weeks. I need to see him. I need to know for sure that it’s Neal.” Peter didn’t enjoy pleading, but in this case he was willing to make an exception. 

The nurse scrutinized him for a moment and then said, “Wait here, I’ll check with his doctor.” Then she stepped away from the desk and into the bowels of the emergency department.

“That was way further than I got with her,” Samuelson snorted.

Peter wasn’t interested in Samuelson at the moment, his need to see Neal was too strong. 

They stood silently at the counter for a couple of minutes and then the nurse returned and waved to Peter. “Dr. Adams said you can come back just long enough to verify the patient’s identity.”

Peter moved around the desk and followed the nurse back into the treatment area. The room Neal was in was the scene of not-so-controlled chaos. No less than seven medical personnel were moving around the room yelling out orders and what seemed like random numbers and abbreviations. As Peter approached the gurney he was shocked by the way his partner looked. Neal was on a respirator, his face was white and gaunt, dark bruising under both eyes.

“Is this your partner?” A man dressed in scrubs, with three days worth of stubble on his face asked Peter.

Peter could only nod at the man he assumed was Dr. Adams. Neal’s appearance had left him at a loss for words.

“Any medical conditions, allergies we should know about?”

Peter shook his head. “Nothing that I know about.”

At that moment one of the machines attached to Neal began screaming. 

“He’s crashing.” Someone yelled.

The chaos in the room instantly doubled.

The doctor who had been speaking to Peter began yelling orders. “Charge the paddles to 300, give him 10cc’s of epi.”

Oh god, oh god, Peter thought, this can’t be happening.

The nurse who had led Peter to Neal tugged on his arm drawing him back out of the room and away from his partner. Peter attempted to resist, he needed to be here, to stay with Neal. 

The nurse tugged harder and said “We need to give them room to work.”

Peter nodded, knowing she was right, while wishing he could stay. Then he allowed himself to be led back to the waiting area.

Samuelson was still standing at the desk. “Is it Caffrey?” He asked.

Peter nodded as he passed the other man and walked on to sit in the first seat available.

“Good. I’ll go back and cuff him.”

“Ha,” Peter snapped. “Even unconscious Neal can slip any cuffs.” 

“Procedure is procedure.” Samuelson replied as he turned to head into the treatment area.

“No,” Peter said sharply.

Samuelson turned and looked questioningly at Peter. “No?”

Peter swallowed hard. “Neal was crashing when they pulled me out of the room. He may be … he may be dead already and even if he isn’t, he’s not going anywhere.”

Samuelson nodded and then took the seat next to Peter. 

They sat there in silence for nearly an hour before Dr. Adams came out and approached them. As soon as Peter saw him he jumped up from his seat. “How is he?”

“Still with us. He came in with a body temperature of 83.6 degrees, moderately hypothermic, which caused an arrhythmia, which caused his heart to stop. We were able to get it going again and now we’re slowly getting him warmed up. He’s still critical, but it looks like the worst is behind him. There are some other injuries we’ll need to work on but I wanted to come out and let you know he’s hanging in.”

Peter’s relief was palpable. He nodded, letting out the breath he had been holding since first spotting the doctor. “What other injuries?”

“He has a couple of broken ribs, a lot of bruising, possibly some internal injuries, we’ll need to get him thawed out a little more before we can be certain of that.”

“Okay.” Peter felt a little numb, partially from relief, partially from fear since Neal was still not totally out of the woods, and partially from anger at Neal for making him feel any of this.

“I need to get back in there. It’s going to be a while before we can move him upstairs and regrettably he may still need surgery if we find any significant internal injuries or bleeding. I’ll make sure someone keeps you updated.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

“You’re welcome.” 

Peter turned to Samuelson. “You might as well go back to your office. It’s obvious that Neal’s not going anywhere for quite some time. I’ll stay and I’ll keep you updated.”

Samuelson nodded. “Alright.” He started toward the door and then turned back to Peter again. “I’m sorry about your partner. I hope he comes through alright.”

“Thank you.”

***

Three days later Peter was still waiting on Neal. The nurses had taken pity on him somewhere in the middle of day two and had brought a recliner into Neal’s room for Peter. It was pushed up close to the bed so that when Neal murmured restlessly in his sleep Peter could clasp his hand through the guardrail to soothe him. 

The laundry list of Neal’s injuries outside of the hypothermia had turned out to be pretty long; three broken ribs, bruising to his spleen and left kidney, minor internal bleeding that thankfully required no surgery, a sprained right knee, dehydration, exhaustion, malnourishment, bruises and minor lacerations covering his body and a grade four concussion. There was also the badly contused and cut left ankle which was infected and had required stitches. Neal’s anklet had still been in place when he was brought into the hospital, but it was in worse shape than Neal’s ankle. It was no wonder the thing had stopped transmitting. 

Neal had woken three times already, but each occasion was brief and he was only semi-coherent. Peter’s need for answers about where Neal had been and what had happened to him was growing exponentially. He had already tasked Diana and Jones with finding out what they could. They had spoken with the patrol officers who had found Neal lying beside the small pond next to Belvedere Castle in the park. There was no sign that anyone had been there with Neal. There was only one set of footprints leading off the main path down to the pond. There had been no sign of a struggle. They hadn’t done a canvas as it was pretty early in the morning, freezing outside and no one had been in the park near the area at the time. 

Even though both Peter’s team and the Marshal service had canvassed the area that Neal originally disappeared from, Diana and Jones went back again, armed with the new thought that Neal had been taken by persons unknown. But, they came away empty this time too.

“What happened to you Neal?” Peter mumbled into his hands as he scrubbed them over his face. The hours sitting by Neal’s bedside were really taking a toll. He had only left twice, very reluctantly, to go home briefly to shower, change and catch a couple of hours sleep. Both times Jones had stayed with Neal. Diana and Christy were dog sitting for Satchmo since Elizabeth was working in San Francisco. Peter was missing her desperately and thankfully she had been able to cut the trip short and would be back in New York the next day. 

While Peter was lost in thought about how he would manage getting Elizabeth from the airport, Neal stirred. “Mmm,” he murmured as he shifted.

Peter stood and hit the call button and then took Neal’s hand. Neal had been disoriented and frightened each time he woke, so Peter was taking a pre-emptive approach. “Hey buddy, you’re okay, you’re in the hospital, but you’re doing okay and you’re going to be fine.” He said in a soothing voice while he gently squeezed Neal’s hand. 

Neal murmured again and then his eyes began to flutter. “That’s it Neal. Can you open your eyes for me?” 

The duty nurse poked her head in the room, saw that Neal was waking and said “I’ll page Dr. Adams.”

Eventually Neal’s eyes opened, filled with confusion and fear as they had been every time before. “Hey, Neal, it’s Peter, I’m right here, everything’s okay.”

For a long moment Neal simply stared up at his partner, and then he seemed to gain some focus. “Peter?” he asked in a breathy whisper. 

“Yeah Neal, I’m here.”

“Where…”

“At Lenox Hill Hospital,” Peter replied. 

The look of confusion on Neal’s face, turned to one of panic, his breathing started to speed up and he looked like any moment he was going to make an attempt to leap from his hospital bed.

Peter squeezed Neal’s hand a little more tightly and said “its okay, you’re safe and you’re going to be fine.”

Neal didn’t appear to have heard Peter, his eyes were darting around the room frantically and he was breathing heavily despite his broken ribs and the oxygen cannula under his nose.

Dr. Adams picked that moment to enter the room which made Neal’s panic escalate even further. He started to lift himself into a seated position as a precursor to getting out the bed entirely. 

His ribs had other ideas however, and Neal fell back against the pillow with a strangled groan. 

Peter placed his hand on Neal’s head brushing his bangs out of his eyes. “Ssshhhh, it’s okay, I promise everything’s okay.”

Dr. Adams walked around the bed to stand on Neal’s other side. 

Neal’s eyes darted from Peter to Dr. Adams and back to Peter again. “Peter?”

“This is Dr. Adams, Neal. He’s been taking care of you since we found you.”

“I don’t… what happened?” Despite his continued confusion, Neal’s breathing started to settle back to normal. 

Peter didn’t know how to answer that question, but thankfully Dr. Adams stepped in.

“I can’t tell you how it started Neal, but I can tell you how it ended. The NYPD found you lying in the snow in Central Park. You were hypothermic and you have quite a few injuries, the ribs which I think you know about and a nasty concussion are the worst of it. But, with rest and time you’ll heal.”

“Central Park?” Neal was definitely still very uncertain. It was clear from the look in his eyes and the tentative way he spoke. It was also clear that he was tiring quickly. 

“Neal, I’m going to take a quick listen to your chest and then we’ll let you get some more rest,” Dr. Adams said as he pulled the stethoscope from around his neck and put it in place. He used the bed control to move Neal up into a more seated position. 

He listened to Neal’s chest, and then asked Peter to help hold Neal steady while he listened from his back. 

By the time Peter settled Neal back against the bed, his eyes were closed and he was nearly asleep again. 

He made one attempt to open them and say something, but it came out an undecipherable moan. 

***

Late the next afternoon Peter was still seated by Neal’s bedside. El’s flight had landed almost two hours ago, but despite his strong desire to see her, he couldn’t leave Neal. He couldn’t shake the feeling that whoever had hurt him, might return for a second try. 

Peter had spent the last four days struggling between anger at Neal for running off and getting himself into whatever mess he was in and concern for a potentially innocent Neal who had somehow managed to get kidnapped and tortured. 

The confusion and fear that Neal was exhibiting were only adding to Peter’s concern that someone might attempt to hurt him further, or worse. So, there he sat in the recliner next to his partner when he should have been with his wife who he had not seen for two weeks.

The door to the room opened breaking Peter out of his thoughts. And, there she was, as beautiful as ever. He had her in his arms moments later, so very glad to be holding her again. 

“Hey hon,” she said with a smile as she reached up to kiss him.

“Hey hon,” he replied just before their lips met in a warm and fond re-acquaintance. 

“I’m so glad you’re home.” He breathed into her hair as he hugged her even more tightly to him. 

“I’m so glad to be home. How is Neal?” El asked, turning her head in the direction of the bed.

“Getting better, slowly. He’s still pretty out of it. He’s only been awake for a few minutes at a time. But, Dr. Adams seems to be happy with his progress,” Peter stated as they both moved to stand next to the bed. 

Despite her conversations with Peter about Neal’s injuries, Elizabeth was shocked by what she saw. Neal looked so different from the last time she had seen him. It was just two days before he disappeared. He had been at the Burke’s for dinner dressed to the nines from fedora, to tie bar to Italian leather shoes. They had all had such fun that night, laughing and chatting amiably about capers at the office, and art and El’s plans for San Francisco. 

Now, he was so gaunt his cheeks had taken on a skeletal quality, his eyes were deeply bruised, and his skin was a chalky white. 

El’s hand went immediately to his head, stroking his hair back gently.

As if he could sense her presence Neal began to wake. His head moved into her touch and he sighed deeply before opening his eyes. 

“Hey, sweetie,” she said gently.

“El?” His voice was still breathy though they had removed the oxygen cannula early that morning. 

“How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?” 

“I’m fine.” El just shook her head. Clearly, Neal was anything but fine. Then she started fussing over him. First was a cup of water, then it was asking the nurses to bring him something to eat, followed by helping him eat the few mouthfuls that he managed, tsking the whole time, followed by the dropping the of guardrail and El scrunching up next to him on the bed, holding his hand. 

Moments later he was fast asleep again, and more calm and relaxed than Peter had seen him since this whole thing had begun. 

Peter was back in the recliner, watching his wife snuggle with his partner when his phone buzzed softly in his pocket. 

He grabbed it and headed out of the room so as not to disturb Neal.

“Burke.”

“Burke, its Samuelson. I’m sorry I have to tell you this, but I thought I should give you a head’s up.”

“I appreciate that, what’s going on?”

“My director ordered me to file on Caffrey. The papers will be in the court’s hands come tomorrow morning.”

Peter couldn’t help the sigh that escaped him. “Are you recommending revocation of his probation?”

“No. But, it may not matter. He was gone a long time and without a solid, verifiable explanation of where he was all that time.” Samuelson let it hang there.

“Yeah.” Peter replied resignedly. 

“How’s he doing?”

“Better, but I haven’t really been able to get any information from him. The concussion and the hypothermia really took it out of him. I’m hopeful that when he’s a little stronger he’ll be able to give me that solid, verifiable explanation.”

“Well, I was clear in the paperwork that Caffrey’s still in the hospital and that his recovery will take some time. Hopefully, they’ll put off scheduling the hearing for at least a week or two.”

“Thank you, for that and for the head’s up.”

Peter hung up the call, went down the hall to the vending machine for his fiftieth crappy cup of coffee for the day and then went back to Neal’s room. 

El knew that something was wrong the moment her husband walked through the door. “Hon, what is it?”

Peter shook his head. He had no intention of letting Elizabeth or Neal know about this for the moment. “Nothing, just work stuff.”

“Do you need to go into the office?”

“No, not right now.”

Elizabeth disentangled herself from a soundly sleeping Neal and sat down in her husband’s lap. “I’m so sorry you’ve had to deal with this on your own.”

“I don’t know what to feel, El. I’m so sorry that he was hurt so badly, but I’m so angry that he allowed it to happen, that he ran. I want to protect him, help him, but I don’t know if the best thing for him is to put him back in prison, where he can’t get into this kind of trouble anymore.”

“Talk to him, hon. You’ll do the right thing. You always do.”

An hour later, Elizabeth had gone to get them something decent to eat for dinner while Peter continued his vigil. Neal had become restless and was scrunching his forehead as if he was in pain. Peter pressed the call button and a minute later, Darcy Neal’s evening shift nurse, entered the room.

“Agent Burke?”

“I think he’s in pain.”

Darcy nodded and approached the bed. She observed Neal for a moment and then appeared to come to the same conclusion. She shook Neal’s shoulder gently while calling his name.

“Hey Neal, it’s Darcy, can you wake up for me?” 

After a moment Neal opened his eyes and looked up at Darcy.

“How are you feeling?” She asked him once he seemed to be mostly awake.

“I’m fine,” he replied looking away from her.

“Neal, we talked about this. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on. Fess up.”

Neal squirmed a little and then quietly said, “My back hurts.”

“Well see, that’s something I can help you with. I’ll be right back.”

Neal closed his eyes as Darcy left the room. Peter just stood there feeling helpless.

It wasn’t long before Darcy was back with a long wedge shaped piece of foam. 

“Agent Burke can you help me for a moment? Neal, we’re going to get you up on you right side and then I’ll put this wedge behind your back. It should make you feel better being in a different position for awhile, okay?”

Neal nodded.

Peter came over to stand by Darcy and helped her maneuver Neal onto his side, holding him in place while Darcy slid the wedge behind him.

Neal sighed in evident relief once they were done.

Darcy moved the call button next to Neal’s hand and said “just push when you need something Neal, please.”

Then she left, leaving Neal and Peter in silence.

Peter sat back in his recliner and took Neal’s hand briefly to get his attention. “Neal, we need to talk. I need you to tell me where you’ve been and what happened. I want to help you, but I can’t until I know what we’re up against.”

Neal closed his eyes again. Peter was not really a patient man, but he knew he needed to give Neal a moment.

When Neal’s eyes opened all Peter could read in them was sadness and hurt. “I really wish I knew Peter, but I don’t. I don’t remember.”

Peter tried hard not to let his frustration show. “What’s the last thing you do remember?”

Neal’s expression spaced out for a moment and then he replied, “Dinner with you and Elizabeth.”

“Neal that was two days before you disappeared. You don’t remember anything from the next two days at all, being at the office, going to lunch at the deli Wednesday, forcing me to eat Indian food Thursday?”

“No.” The fear in Neal’s voice was clear as a bell.

“Okay, how about the park, do you remember being in the park?”

“When was I in the park?”

“That’s where NYPD found you, remember?”

Neal shook his head. “I’m sorry Peter.”

“Okay, it’s okay.”

Now Peter needed a moment. He knew he had to ask, but after Adler, after accusing Neal of stealing the treasure, it was hard to make Neal think he had no trust in him. “Were you planning something, Neal? Were you planning to run, to pull some heist?”

Neal looked up at Peter for the first time since the conversation began. His eyes were hard, determined. “No, I was not.”

“Are you sure, Mozzie didn’t pull you into something, or Alex?”

“If they did, it was that day, at the last minute. I wasn’t planning anything.”

Peter nodded. He wanted to believe his partner, he really did, but the memory loss was rather convenient. 

“Peter, I know you and the Marshals ran an investigation. What did you find out?”

Peter briefly thought about lying to Neal, telling him they had something in order to gauge his response, to see if he could get Neal to confess to something, even inadvertently. But, he opted for the truth instead.

“Nothing, there were no witnesses to your disappearance, there was no evidence found on the scene except your cell phone and we found nothing in the park besides you.”

“I’m sorry, Peter.”

***

Later that evening Peter cornered Dr. Adams in the hallway outside of Neal’s room.

“He claims he doesn’t remember anything from two days before he went missing until he woke up here.”

“I’m afraid that’s entirely possible, Agent Burke. Neal suffered hypothermia, a serious concussion and other physical and probably emotional trauma. Any one of these could cause memory loss. The combination, I’m not surprised at all that Neal has no memory of these events.” 

“Will his memory return?”

“Possibly, but there’s no way to know when or how much he could get back.”

“It could be the difference between Neal’s freedom and a lifetime in prison.” 

“I’m sorry, but unfortunately, there are no rules for this sort of thing.” 

Peter nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Adams.”

***

Two days later Neal was tucked into bed in the Burke’s guestroom. Peter thought that Neal looked small and fragile. Neal still wasn’t eating much, he had actually lost more weight since they had found him and he was still pale.

“Can I get you anything else?” Peter asked as he placed a tumbler of water on the bedside table.

“No, thank you.” Neal replied looking down at his hands where they rested atop the blankets. “Peter…”

“Yeah?”

“I appreciate what you and Elizabeth are doing, really, but I think I’d be more comfortable at June’s.”

Peter huffed, grabbed the chair that was in the corner of the room, placed it beside the bed and then sat facing his partner. He supposed he had waited as long as possible to have this conversation with Neal.

“June’s isn’t an option right now, Neal.”

“Because of the anklet? Can’t you just get a replacement?” 

Peter shook his head. “You were gone for over three weeks. I’m sorry, but your probation is under review and you’re technically in custody until the hearing.”

“Hearing?” The word was said so tentatively that Peter felt even worse than he had two minutes ago about all of this.

“Next Wednesday.”

Neal still hadn’t looked up from staring at his hands. They sat there together in silence for several minutes. Peter wanted to give Neal time to process. But, he didn’t want to leave him before Neal had a chance to ask questions or admit that he might remember something. 

While Neal had been in the hospital, Peter had had Diana and Jones run through every police report in the city for any signs of Neal’s handiwork from the day he disappeared until the day he was found in Central Park. When nothing turned up he had them do the same for a 150 mile radius outside the city. They came up empty again. Then just to be as safe as possible, Peter had them run every report from every major metropolitan area. There were a couple of scenarios that could have fit Neal’s M.O., but they could have fit ten other guys and a couple of women as well. 

Peter was disappointed that nothing turned up. It would have been good to have a lead, any lead on where Neal had been. He still wanted to believe that someone had taken Neal, had forced him to act on their behalf and had then dumped him when they were done. But with nothing to go on the chances of bringing this someone to justice were slim to none. On the other hand, at least Peter could go into court next week and report that aside from the whole disappearing thing they had nothing on Neal that would support the need to send him back to prison. 

Eventually Neal slid further into the bed. “I’m tired,” he mumbled.

“Okay, get some rest,” Peter said as he stood and returned the chair to the corner. “El, will bring you lunch in an hour or so.”

“Please tell her not to bother, I’m really not hungry.”

“Neal…” Peter started. He was geared up to give Neal Dr. Adam’s speech about needing to get more calories so that his body could heal. But looking at the creases in the pale forehead, Peter relented. He had just told Neal that it was likely he would be returning to prison in five days, it really wasn’t the time for a lecture on nutrition. 

So instead he nodded his assent and then quietly left the room, pulling the door partially closed on his way out.

*** 

Early, very early the next morning El got a call from a very agitated and concerned Mozzie. He had been incommunicado, out the country. He had no idea that Neal was missing. Was Neal still missing? Elizabeth assured him that Neal was back and was recovering. She then put Peter on the phone who grilled Mozzie about anything he might know about what Neal might have been planning. When Moz adamantly replied that Neal was up to nothing, not that he would ever reveal his friend’s plans to a suit, Peter asked if Mozzie knew anyone who might want use Neal, like Wilkes had. Mozzie replied that knowledge of Neal’s talents was well-known but no one that he knew of would abduct Neal. 

Then Peter reluctantly told Mozzie about the hearing scheduled for Wednesday. As Neal’s lawyer he should be there. Mozzie was still out of the country, but he would be back by Tuesday, he would make certain of it. Then he asked Peter to tell Neal that he would call him later, at a more reasonable time. 

***

Peter heard a thump, bringing him instantly awake. A moment later it was repeated and Peter was out of the bed and halfway to the guestroom when the thump was repeated again. He entered the room and flipped on the light switch just as Neal’s back impacted with the headboard another time, with another thump. 

“Jesus, Neal,” Peter muttered as he made his way to the bed, sat and put his own body between Neal’s and the headboard. Neal rocked back into him and Peter wrapped his arms around him.

“Hey, stop, it’s okay,” Peter said soothingly into Neal’s ear.

Neal made a low mewling noise and continued to attempt his rocking. Peter shifted slightly to try and get a look at Neal’s face. What he saw frightened him. Neal’s eyes were glassy, his pupils huge. Sweat ran in streaks down the side of his pale, sunken face. It was clear he had had a nightmare and that he was still in its throes. 

“Neal,” Peter said more forcefully. “Neal, it’s okay, it’s time to wake up. Come on buddy, you’re safe now.” Peter tightened his hold on Neal hoping to ground him.

Eventually, the tension seemed to ease from Neal’s body and he came back to himself. “Peter?”

“Yeah, I’m here. It’s okay.”

Neal shivered violently for moment as if shaking loose a lingering demon from his nightmare. Then he relaxed back into Peter’s embrace. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Neal whispered.

“Don’t be, just let me help you.”

Neal sighed heavily and shifted so that he could rest his head on Peter’s shoulder. “I don’t know how.” 

“Tell me about the nightmare.”

Neal was quiet for long enough that Peter thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then he said “I don’t remember much. It was dark and really cold. I could barely feel my fingers. There were loud clanking sounds. I didn’t know where I was or how I got there or why I was there. But, I was so scared. I’m not sure why, but I knew this was not a good place and that I did not want to be there.”

“Were you alone?” Peter asked, urging Neal to give him as much detail as he could.

“I’m not sure. I didn’t see anyone, I really couldn’t see anything, but it was almost as if I could sense someone else’s presence.” Neal shivered again. “I was scared,” he repeated. “The clanking started getting louder, it hurt my head it was so loud. I wanted to run, but I couldn’t see enough to know where to go, if there was anywhere to go, and then it seemed to get colder and darker and louder and then I was here with you.”

Neal buried his head a little more deeply into Peter’s shoulder. Peter hung onto him until his body completely relaxed and his breathing evened out into sleep. Then Peter gently extricated himself and laid Neal back into the bed.

Peter stood there for a few minutes watching Neal’s chest rise and fall. The kid was a mess, and there was nothing Peter could do. Oh, he could and would come to the hearing, report on all the positive things Neal had done since he started working for him. He could and would make a full statement about the investigation into Neal’s disappearance. And he could and would ask/recommend/beg for Neal to remain on probation, but it wouldn’t be enough. Whatever had happened to Neal was eating him away from the inside out and there was nothing Peter could do to stop it, especially if Neal went back inside. 

***

Peter went into work on Monday and left Jones in charge of Neal sitting in part to comply with the custody mandate, in part to make sure he wasn’t alone, and in part to make sure he was safe. When he returned in the early evening, El was in the kitchen cooking, Jones was at his computer at the dining room table and Neal was lying on the couch staring dazedly at what appeared to be an episode of Housewives of Someplace or Other on TV.

Peter greeted Neal, who didn’t respond and then made his way over to Jones. “Hey Jones, good day?”

“Sure, Peter. Can we talk in the kitchen?” Peter nodded, suddenly very concerned and followed Jones into the far corner of the kitchen where El joined them. Peter’s unease grew; it looked like they were having some sort of a cabal. 

“What’s going on?” He asked cautiously.

“Neal came down here about an hour after you and Elizabeth left this morning. Didn’t say word, just laid down there on the couch and turned on the TV. Since then he hasn’t moved.”

“Well, he’s pretty out of it still,” Peter said in an attempt to mitigate what he was hearing.

“No honey, I came home at lunch time to get Neal to eat something. Not only didn’t he eat, he didn’t move, didn’t speak. I don’t even think he’s changed position all day.”

Jones shook his head in agreement. “It’s almost as if he’s catatonic.”

Peter hadn’t thought that things could get worse, they were already completely in the crapper, but leave it to Neal. “Jones go home, thanks but go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay Peter.” He left the kitchen, gathered up his stuff and then headed toward the front door saying goodnight to Neal on his way out.

Peter gathered his wife in his arms and held her for a long moment, dreading what was to come. She hugged him back with equal fervor. “Go talk to him honey. He trusts you.”

“That’s what worries me,” he replied, giving her one last squeeze for luck.

Back in the living room, Peter turned off the TV and sat down on the coffee table in Neal’s line of vision. He sat there for a long moment hoping Neal would respond to his presence. But Neal never looked at him, just through him, as if he were still somehow watching ghost images coming through the television. 

Eventually, Peter decided to make the first move. “Neal.” He waited a moment and then continued, “Hey, look at me.”

And, yet again Neal surprised Peter by turning his head slightly and focusing his gaze on his partner.

“What’s going on?” Peter asked carefully.

Neal only shrugged.

Peter pressed. “Jones said you’ve been lying here all day staring at nothing.”

“Not nothing, the TV.” Neal replied in a voice so soft Peter almost missed it.

“Ohhhkaaayy. Neal even for you that’s pretty strange, actually especially for you. Talk to me.”

“About what?”

“About why you’ve spent your day, lying on the sofa staring at the jewel-encrusted, rich and senseless. “

Neal’s only response was another shrug.

Peter’s patience was reaching the end of the line. “Come on Neal. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

And, then Neal did it, spoke out loud Peter’s current greatest fear. “YOU can’t help me Peter. No one can help me.”

“We want to Neal, all of us want to. But you have to give us something to go on, buddy.”

And just like that Neal was off the sofa and halfway across the room, his frustration and his anger like a cloak trailing behind him. “Don’t you think I would if I could? Don’t you think I want to remember? Do you think I want to go back to prison? Do you think I’m enjoying this?”

Before Peter could respond Neal had spun back around and was standing right in front of him. “You probably think this is some big con, some scheme. What could I possibly have to gain from this Peter? Why would I do this to myself?” Neal yelled as he pulled his tee shirt away from his chest to reveal the ugly yellow and green bruising that still decorated the ribs that protruded so starkly from his body. 

Neal began to collapse in on himself, his outburst stealing what little energy he possessed. Peter reached out and had him in his arms in moments, gently guiding him back to sit on the sofa. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Neal mumbled into Peter’s shoulder. 

“Don’t be,” Peter said, as he rubbed his hand soothingly up and down Neal’s back. 

Later that night after El had mothered Neal for a couple of hours, plying him with homemade soup and fresh baked bread and cookies followed by lying next to him in the bed until he fell into an exhausted sleep, she laid in bed next to her husband waiting for him to fall into an exhausted sleep. 

But, Peter couldn’t sleep, despite the toll the last few weeks had taken on him. “I’m failing him El, I’m failing him.”

Elizabeth picked up Peter’s hand, brought it to her lips and kissed it gently. “Peter, you’re the only person who has never failed him.”

Peter shook his head. “Maybe not before, but now… I don’t know to help him. Whatever happened to him is eating him alive and if, when they send him back to prison…” Peter couldn’t finish the sentence. It was too hard to think about, let alone voice.

“I know you’re doing everything you can to keep him out and Neal knows it too.”

“What will that matter if I fail? Good intentions aren’t enough.”

“Maybe not, but they’re a really good start.” 

*** 

Early the next morning Peter strode purposefully into the White Collar offices. “Diana find me the file on Neal’s recovery,” he requested on his way past her desk.

“Sure boss.”

Five minutes later she was standing before his desk holding the file out to him. “Have you got a new lead?” She asked hopefully.

“Not yet. But Neal said something to me yesterday that got me thinking and I want to see if his clothing was checked for trace.”

Diana looked at him quizzically. “What do you think you’ll find.”

“Neal said that whatever happened to him, he didn’t self-inflict the damage done to his body. Someone hurt him Diana, and maybe that someone left something behind on Neal’s clothing.”

Peter took the folder from her and scanned though the contents, looking for any information on what testing had been done. The answer was very little it seemed. “Okay, Diana grab Neal’s stuff out of evidence and get it down to the lab. I want them to go over every inch for DNA, fibers, whatever.”

“On it,” Diana replied as she headed out the door.

Two hours later Diana walked back into Peter’s office smiling. “They’re not finished going over everything yet but, you were right. There were blonde hairs on Neal’s coat.”

“Let’s not jump the gun, they could be Satchmo’s for all we know right now.”

Diana shook her head. “Not unless Satchmo’s got any 6-inch strands on him. They’re still examining Neal’s clothes and they’re starting to the run the DNA on the hair.”

“Good, I need it by tomorrow’s hearing Di. I don’t care if they have to work all night.” 

***

The next morning Neal was sitting on the bed struggling to get his shirt on when Peter stepped into the room.

“Hey, let me help you with that.”

Neal nodded, relieved. He was exhausted just from showering and getting his underwear and his pants on. “Thanks.”

Peter came over and gently tugged Neal’s shirt up over his shoulder and then buttoned up the front.

“Remind me to thank Elizabeth for picking this up for me,” Neal said, indicating the dark grey suit. 

“You thanked her last night.”

“I did?” 

“Yeah, you did.” 

“I don’t remember.”

“It’s okay, you were pretty tired.” Peter was wishing once again that there was some way they could put this off another week or two. Neal was so far from okay. He was still experiencing bad headaches, he sometimes became confused. He still wasn’t eating normally; Peter thought he might actually still be losing weight, instead of regaining. He tired easily and still looked drawn and pale. 

But unfortunately, Peter had had no say in the matter, neither had Dr. Adams who had made the attempt. He would be there today to talk about the severity of Neal’s injuries and the probable causes of them.

Peter helped Neal stand, tucked his shirt tails in and then allowed Neal the dignity of zipping himself up. 

“Want some help with your tie?”

“I’ve got it, thanks though. I’ll meet you downstairs in a minute.”

El had made crepes and fruit salad for breakfast in the hope of tempting Neal to eat. And, he tried, if this was to be his last meal before returning to prison he wanted to enjoy it, but he just didn’t have any appetite. Too many butterflies were already taking up all the space in his stomach. 

Peter was saying something to Elizabeth about trying to get the court to reschedule, to give Neal more time to heal, but Neal didn’t want to prolong this any longer. He was going back, and the sooner he did the less painful anticipation he would have to endure. 

At least everyone had promised to be there, Mozzie, June, Jones, Diana. Even Sarah was going to be there. He would have the chance to say goodbye.

In the car on the way to the courthouse Neal opened his window despite the cold winter morning air. It felt good on his face and he wanted to remember how it felt, speeding down the road with the wind on his face. He wasn’t sure when, if ever he would feel this again. Peter had said he was sure they would send him back only for the remainder of his sentence, but Neal knew better. He knew the terms of his parole contract. The court could send him back for life if they wanted to and why wouldn’t they want to.

***

Neal couldn’t seem to keep up with what was going on in the courtroom. People, including his friends, kept talking about him like he wasn’t there. Some were saying things that he liked, Neal was loyal, Neal worked hard, he was a real asset to the unit. Others said things he didn’t like so much, Caffrey was untrustworthy, Caffrey was a con artist, he ran to pull some job that went south on him. 

It was taking forever and he really just wanted it to be over so he could go lie down somewhere. He was sitting, but it didn’t seem to matter, staying upright was becoming a real problem. 

Peter was currently on the witness stand being interviewed by Mozzie who was playing the role of Neal’s lawyer, complete with bow tie. Diana had yet to show up with the test results from Neal’s clothing so he was doing his best to stall without looking obvious about it. He glanced over at Neal, and didn’t like what he saw. Neal seemed to be staring at nothing, his face blank, his features slack despite the seriousness of the situation. As Peter watched, Neal started to slowly slide out of his chair. 

“Neal!” He yelled as he ran toward his partner. Neal kept sliding and Peter barely managed to reach him before his head hit the floor. Peter cradled Neal’s head in his lap. “Neal?”

“Peter, I don’t feel so good,” Neal whispered. 

Dr. Adams had knelt down on Neal’s other side. “Neal can you tell me what you’re feeling?”

“Tired, kind of shaky.”

Dr. Adams was checking Neal’s pulse. “Peter, call an ambulance.”

*** 

Neal woke up slowly. He wasn’t in the courtroom anymore, he was in a bed, a lumpy bed and he was pretty sure there was a needle stuck in the back of his hand.

“Hey, are you awake, Neal?”

Peter was here. That meant he was probably not in a prison infirmary then.

“Sort of,” he replied groggily. Maybe if he tried opening his eyes, he’d feel more with it.

“Uh.” It was bright, too bright and his head hurt suddenly.

“Don’t rush it, okay.” Peter said as he patted Neal’s shoulder.

“You’re back at Lennox Hill. You passed out in court. Dr. Adams was there so we brought you back here. You’re going to be okay.”

Neal nodded slightly to indicate to Peter he understood. Then he heard Peter say something to someone about getting Dr. Adams.

After a minute the level of pain in his head leveled off and he tried opening his eyes again. It was better this time. He was squinting, but he managed to keep them open. 

“Dr. Adams will be here in a minute.”

Neal gave another slight nod; it was all he felt capable of.

Dr. Adams joined them a minute later. “How are you feeling Neal?

“Kind of washed out and my head hurts.”

Dr. Adams nodded. “That will improve soon, once you’ve sucked in a bit more of the IV. So here’s the deal. In court this morning you became hypotensive. Your blood pressure dropped dramatically which is why you began to feel dizzy and weak and why you passed out.

“Right now, we’re giving you fluids and pumping you up with some nutrients and vitamins. It looks like there was a combination of factors here. The first was stress, unavoidable under the circumstances. The second and third, you had a hand in. You were dehydrated and you’re somewhat anemic. Clearly, you have not been eating properly since I released you.

“I’m going to give you two choices, one I admit you for a day or two to ensure that you are eating properly. Two, once the IV is done and your blood pressure is stable, I let you go home with Agent Burke and he gets to ensure that you are eating properly.”

Neal looked over at Peter. He had his stern look on. For half a second Neal actually considered staying in the hospital. Then he remembered the enormous difference between the taste of hospital food and Elizabeth’s cooking and decided to go with option two.

“I’ll take door number two, Monty.”

***

Three hours later Neal was ensconced on the Burke’s sofa, fluffed pillows behind his back, a blanket draped across his legs and a hot bowl of soup in his hands. Elizabeth was sitting next to him encouraging him to eat every mouthful. Unfortunately, despite Elizabeth’s urging and the lectures he’d received from both Dr. Adams and Peter, he wasn’t having an easy time of it. Peter and Diana had been out on the back porch for the last twenty minutes. He knew they were talking about him, about what happened to him while he was missing and about what happened at court today. 

“Neal, sweetie, eat.” Neal refocused his attention on Elizabeth, smiling thinly at her.

“Honey, Dr. Adams said no stress, remember?”

Neal nodded. “I’m just not sure whether it would be more stressful to be out there with them, than it is in here wondering what they’re talking about.”

Elizabeth patted his arm sympathetically and said, “Eat.”

Neal was finishing the bowl just as Diana and Peter came back inside. Diana went straight from the back door to the front. “Goodnight Peter, Elizabeth. Neal, take care okay?”

Peter sat down in front of Neal. 

Elizabeth took that as her cue, took the empty bowl from Neal’s hands and said “I’ll just go clean up a little,” as she headed toward the kitchen. 

“Peter...”

“Neal, just give me a minute, okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

Neal nodded, wishing he hadn’t eaten the whole bowl of soup before this conversation.

“Do you know a guy named Lester Lange?” He began.

Neal shook his head. “No.”

“He has a rather peculiar M.O. He pulls a lot second-story stuff, jewelry mostly. But the trick is that he also manages to get someone else to the do the actual breaking and entering. He started off paying for the work, then he moved on to threatening people to do it for him. Now, it appears that he’s giving kidnapping a go.”

“I’m not sure I understand.” 

“I had Diana work with the crime lab to check out the clothing you were wearing when we found you. There was trace evidence, blonde hair and two drops of blood. They belonged to Lange. He’s in custody. Diana did the interrogation. He admitted to taking you. Apparently, you _refused_ to cooperate despite drugs, beatings and withholding food and water. And, then to make matters worse you escaped.” 

Neal was silent, blinking at Peter.

“Neal?”

“I escaped.”

“Yeah.”

“And, my probation?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Neal. Diana gave her report to the court this afternoon. They dismissed the case. You’re still mine for the next two years.”

“Peter.”

“Yeah?”

“I think you should let Diana handle all of the interrogations from now on.”

“Probably.”

***

Neal stayed with the Burke’s through the weekend. His memory still remained a blank, even after Peter showed him a picture of Lange and filled him in on more of the details of his kidnapping. But, with the stress of not knowing what had happened and the stress of not knowing what was going to happen alleviated, Neal was finally able to rest and start eating properly. He still had a long way to go before he was 100 percent, but by Monday Peter was certain that given time Neal would get there.


End file.
